


In the Beginning: Gabriel's Origins - Part 5: What They Deserve

by GrowlingPeanut



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Loki!Gabriel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-20 08:25:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15530184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrowlingPeanut/pseuds/GrowlingPeanut
Summary: Gabriel's fitting into his new role of Loki, the Norse Trickster God, and he's honestly enjoying it. But it's still early. And Loki himself has some advice for the archangel. Gabriel's not sure he likes it.





	In the Beginning: Gabriel's Origins - Part 5: What They Deserve

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as part of GabrielLives' multi-author compilation for filling in Gabriel's backstory from the beginning up until Tall Tales. For the other chapters, just click the collection title in the header information.

Gabriel regarded the cloak with narrow eyes, holding it up in one hand, turning it from side to side. The stitching was crisp, uniform. The hides were thick, but clean. Smooth on the inside, coated with dense gray fur on the outside. It was an impressive piece of tailoring.

“...does it please you, my Lord?”

Gabriel glanced down at the woman in front of him. She’d risen, somewhat, from her previously reverent posture, and her eyes glistened with apprehension as she watched him. Gabriel could read the emotions in her face, and flashes of thought crossed his mind, drawn from hers. She’d lost her husband to the wilderness, but still managed to care for not only her children, but anyone else in the village, whenever they needed it. The cloak would have been a gift for her husband, had he ever returned. She was offering it to him, to Loki, but...the hope still hadn’t faded from her. Not yet.

With a single, swift motion, he threw the cloak around his shoulders and knelt, cupping her face with one hand. “It does.”

The woman stared at him for a moment, awestruck, before breaking down into a mess of tears. “Thank you, Loki,” she blubbered, wiping frantically at her eyes. “Thank you. It—it meant so much—”

He silenced her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Go to your children. Tell them you have my favor.”

She rose quickly, nodding, and hurried back through the crowd, smiling through her tears.

Gabriel watched her go for a moment. She deserved so much more than just the gratitude of the village. Maybe he could give her what she really wanted. It wasn’t too much of an overreach, was it? Loki hadn’t said anything one way or the other regarding miracles… He forced himself out of his musings. He could think about the parameters of his newfound identity later.

His gaze roved through the expectant crowd. Every pair of eyes were locked on his. Every pair except… “You,” he said softly, focused on a young boy near the back of the group. His hair was ruffled and unkempt and he was staring firmly at the ground. “What’s your name, boy?”

The child looked up, his cool blue eyes meeting the golden warmth of Gabriel’s. A sharp pang cut through Gabriel’s chest, unbidden and unexpected. _The same color as Castiel’s_ — No. He couldn't. He wasn't going back, he’d promised himself—and Loki—that he would never…

“Sibbi,” the boy murmured.

“Sibbi,” Gabriel repeated to himself. “Come up here.”

Hushed incredulities rippled through the crowd as the boy skulked his way toward the dias where Gabriel was standing. Gabriel knelt to meet him. “You want something.”

Biting his lip, the boy nodded. “M-my mama…” His voice trailed out into quiet sniffles, but he dug into the pocket of his threadbare tunic and procured a small carving of a wolf. “It’s not enough,” he managed to whisper.

It was rough, asymmetrical, but...sincere. Honestly, Gabriel would have healed the boy’s mother without the gift. But he _wasn't_ Gabriel, not to these people anyway. As far as they knew, he was Loki. And Loki’s help required sacrifice. Still…

He leaned in toward Sibbi, holding the little carving in his hand. “Watch.” The boy’s tear-filled eyes grew wide as the tiny wolf began to move. The wood shifted, making the amateur whittling sharper, more detailed. Its tail curled out behind it. Its head tipped back in a silent howl.

Sibbi looked at Gabriel, awestruck. Gabriel smiled back and held out the carving. “Keep it. Put it beside your mother’s bed. She will heal.”

The boy gave Gabriel a gap-toothed grin and—much to his surprise—a quick hug before bounding back down the dias and off through the stunned crowd.

Gabriel allowed a smirk to tilt across his lips as he searched for his next devotee. Clearly, this wasn't what they expected from Loki, but he found he didn't care too much. He could blame it on being a beginner if the Trickster complained. He _liked_ helping these people, even if he couldn't do it outright, as himself. Loki’s magic allowed just enough splendor that he could work some miracles without being questioned about what he really was. Granted, he didn't think people would become too critical. He was already a god to them. Anything he did that was closer to his actual power would just leave them awestruck and more devoted.

And if he was being honest with himself...he loved it. The attention. The adoration. Down here, he was the perfect one. Nobody was fighting with him. They loved him. Revered him. He didn't have to preface every appearance with “do not be afraid” because they _weren't_. He was approachable. And he realized for perhaps the first time just how much he’d missed that.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

The sharp evening breeze whistled along the edge of the cliff where he sat, ruffling the fur around his shoulders. The crackle of bonfires and sounds of laughter echoed up from the valley far below him.

Somewhere behind him, a twig snapped. Gabriel didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

“Sitting out on your own party?”

Gabriel chuckled softly. “I wanted to make my grand entrance later.” He spared a fleeting glance at the man standing next to him before focusing on the festivities once more. “That’s what _you_ would do, after all.”

Loki laughed. “You learn fast.” His boots scuffed across the stone as he sat down, sending several pebbles skittering over the edge of the cliff. “Speaking of which, that ceremony earlier? Not bad. For an imposter.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes as Loki smirked.

“But...you only got _half_ of it right. No, don’t look at me like that. Instead of justifying the bad and praising the good, take them at face value. Forget what your Father said about forgiveness.” The Trickster waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Give them what they _deserve_.”

Gabriel mulled that over for a moment. He knew he’d been a little too...well, angelic, during the events of the ceremony, and he’d figured Loki would have something to say about it, but… “So I should punish them as well?”

Loki shrugged. “Like I said, if they deserve it.” He picked up a small stone and tossed it out into the darkening night. “If you want to keep getting reactions like _that_ ,” he nodded back toward the village, “there needs to be a little bit of fear. Just the mere possibility of violence. It’ll make them more appreciative when you accept their gifts, especially when, in their minds, it could have gone much, _much_ , worse.”

Gabriel nodded, even though the tone of Loki’s voice unsettled him. He wasn’t worried for himself, no. But… His eyes wandered back to the festival in the valley. A group of children were chasing each other around the largest bonfire and Gabriel felt an involuntary smile on his lips. No, he was worried for _them_. Humans certainly weren’t perfect, but they… They _tried_. They were remarkable little creations, and Gabriel had immediately understood why his Father loved them so much. To think of _hurting_ any of them...

“Start out simple,” the Trickster continued, as if he were privy to Gabriel’s worries. “Punish the murderers, the rapists, the abusers. After a while, you’ll pick up on the nuances. Tailor your treatments to the behavior.” He looked out over the field at the tents and the bonfires, then back to Gabriel with a wicked grin. “But enough about that. We have a party to crash.”

“You’re going?”

“Oh, not as myself. No, I’ll just blend in to the crowd. You though, my friend…” He clapped the archangel on the shoulder and pushed himself to his feet, holding out a hand for Gabriel. “You get to have the _real_ fun. Go on,” he encouraged. “Make your grand entrance. I’ll be around.”

Gabriel’s appearance to the festival a moment later was nothing short of spectacular—a little fire, a lot of magic, a shower of golden coins—but he was caught up on Loki’s words. _Punish. Violence. ...what they deserve_ … Had he made the wrong choice? Had it been foolish to run? He’d never been a fighter like Michael… He’d never delighted in brutality... The memory of his older brothers dredged up a feeling that was equal parts terror and heartbreak. No. He’d left for a reason. He was doing this for himself. It was...what was best. So if he needed to fully shoulder the mantle of Loki in order to be safe from Heaven’s turmoil, so be it.

He was Loki, the Norse Trickster God. He was revered. He was worshipped. He was feared. He was loved.

A young woman passed him, holding a tray of freshly-brewed mead. She turned briefly, and the sparks from the bonfire reflected off of the auburn hair that spilled down her shoulders. She smiled when she caught his eye and raised the tray in invitation.

He was Loki. And he would take full advantage of that.


End file.
